University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

There was the pause of a moment, after the
deed, in which no word was spoken. The murderer
at length, with the utmost composure, wiping
his bloody weapon upon the long grass on the road
side, interrupted a silence which was certainly
painful to the landlord, if not to himself, by exclaiming—

“Well, Munro, so far our ride has been for nothing,
and so much time has been lost already, that
I fear it is now hopeless to attempt further pursuit
of the boy, at least for to-night. What say you?”

The person addressed did not reply to the interrogatory,
but in a language the result of a different
course of thought, he returned,—

“It will be no wonder, Guy, if the whole country
turns out upon us. You are too wanton in
your doings. Wherefore, when I told you of your
error, did you strike the poor wretch again.”

The landlord, it will be seen, spoke simply with
reference to policy and expediency, and deserves
as little credit for humanity as the individual he
rebuked. In this particular lay the difference between
them. Both were equally ruffianly, but the
one had less of passion, less of feeling, and more
of profession in the matter. With the other, the
trade of crime was adopted strictly in subservience
to the dictates of ill-regulated desires and

emotions, suffering defeat in their hope of indulgence,
and stimulating to a morbid action which became
a disease. The references of Munro were always
addressed to the petty gains; and the miserly
nature, thus perpetually exhibiting itself, at the
expense of all other emotions, was, in fact, the true
influence which subjected him almost to the sole
dictation of his accomplice—in whom a somewhat
lofty distaste for such a peculiarity had occasioned
a manner and habit of mind, the superiority of
which was readily felt by the other.

“Why strike again?” was the response of Rivers.
“You talk like a child. Would you have
him live to blab? Saw you not that he knew us
both? Are you so green as to think, if suffered to
escape, his tongue or hands would have been idle?
You should know better. But the fact is, he could
not have lived. The first blow was fatal; and, if
I had deliberated for an instant, I should have followed
the suggestions of your humanity—I should
have withheld the second, which merely terminated
his agony.”

“It was a rash deed, and I would we had made
sure of your man before blindly rushing into these
unnecessary risks.”

“Your scruples and complainings, Wat, remind
me of that farm-yard philosopher, who always
locked the door of his stable after the steed had
been stolen. You have your sermon ready in
time for the funeral, but not during the life for
whose benefit you make it. But whose fault was
it that we followed the wrong game. Did you not
make certain of the fresh track at the fork, so that
there was no doubting you?”

“I did—there was a fresh track, and our coming
upon Forrester proves it. There may have
been another on the other prong of the fork, and

doubtless the youth we pursue has taken it; but
you were in such an infernal hurry that I had
scarce time to find out what I did.”

“Well, you will preach no more on the subject.
We have failed, and accounting for won't mend
the failure. As for this bull-headed fellow, he deserves
his fate for his old insolence. He was for
ever putting himself in my way, and may not
complain that I have at last put him out of it. But
come, we have no further need to remain here,
though just as little to pursue further in the present
condition of our horses.”

“What shall we do with the body? we cannot
leave it here.”

“Why not?—What should we do with it, I
pray? The wolves may want a dinner to-morrow,
and I would be charitable. Yet stay—where
is the youth's dirk which you found at the stable?
Give it me.”

“What would you do?”

“You shall see. Forrester's horse is off—fairly
frightened, and will take the route back to the old
range. He will doubtless go to old Walton's
clearing, and carry the first news. There will be
a search, and when they find the body, they will
not overlook the weapon, which I shall place beside
it. There will then be other pursuers than
me—and if it brings the boy to the gallows, I shall
not regret our mistake to-night.”

As he spoke, he received the dagger, the sheath
of which he threw at some distance in advance
upon the road, while he smeared the blade with
the blood, now fast coagulating, of the murdered
man, which still, however, continued to trickle from
the body.

“You are well taught in the profession, Guy,
and, if you would let me, I would leave it off, if

for no other reason than the very shame of being
so much outdone in it. But we may as well strip
him. If his gold is in his pouch, it will be a spoil
worth the taking, for he has been melting and running
for several days past at Murkey's furnace.”

Rivers turned away, and the feeling which his
countenance exhibited might have been that of disdainful
contempt as he replied—

“Take it, if you please—I am in no want of his
money. My object was not his robbery.”

The scorn was seemingly understood; for, without
proceeding to do as he proposed, Munro retained
his position for a few moments, appearing
to busy himself with the bridle of his horse, having
adjusted which he returned to his companion.

“Well, are you ready for a start. We have a
good piece to ride, and should be in motion. We
have both of us much to do in the next three days,
or rather nights; and need not hesitate what to
take hold of first. The court will sit on Monday,
and if you are determined to stand and see it out
—a plan I don't altogether like—why, we must
prepare to get rid of such witnesses as we may
think likely to become troublesome.”

“That matter will be seen to. I have ordered
Dillon to have ten men in readiness, if need be for
so many, to carry off Pippin, and a few others, till
the adjournment. It will be a dear jest to the lawyer,
and one not less novel than terrifying to him,
to miss a court under such circumstances. I take
it, he has never been absent from a session for
twenty years; for, if sick before, he is certain to
get well in time for business, spite of his physician.”

The grim smile which disfigured still more the
visage of Rivers at the ludicrous association which
the proposed abduction of the lawyer awakened in

his mind, was reflected fully back from that of his
companion, whose habit, however, in this respect,
was more notorious for gravity than any other less
stable expression. He carried out in words the
fancied occurrence, described the lawyer as raving
over his undocketed and unargued cases, and the
numberless embryos lying composedly in his
pigeon-holes, awaiting, with praiseworthy patience,
the moment when they should take upon them a
local habitation and a name; while he, upon whom
they so much depended, was fretting with unassuaged
fury in the constraints of his prison, and
the absence from that scene of his repeated triumphs
which before had never been at a loss for
his presence.

“But, come—let us mount,” said the landlord,
who did not feel much disposed to lose much, if
any time for a jest. “There is much more than
this to be done yet in the village; and, I take it,
you feel in no disposition to waste more time to-night.
Let us be off.”

“So say I, but I go not back with you to-night,
Wat. I strike across the woods into the other
road, where I have much to see to; besides going
down the branch to Dixon's Ford, and Wolf's Neck,
where I must see our men and have them ready.
I shall not be in the village, therefore, until late to-morrow
night, if then.”

“What—you are for the cross-roads, again,”
said Munro. “I tell you what, Guy, you must
have done with that girl before Lucy shall be
yours. It's bad enough—bad enough that she
should be compelled to look to you for love. It
were a sad thing if the little she might expect were
to be divided between two or more.”

“Pshaw—you are growing Puritan because of
the dark. I tell you I have done with her. I cannot

altogether forget what she was, nor what I have
made her; and just at this time she is in need of my
assistance. Good-night! I shall see Dillon and the
rest of them by morning, and prepare for the difficulty.
My disguise shall be complete, and if you
are wise you will see to your own. I would not
think of flight, for much may be made out of the
country, and I know of none better for our purposes.
Good-night!”

Thus saying, the outlaw struck into the forest,
and Munro, lingering until he was fairly out of
sight and hearing, proceeded to rifle the person of
Forrester—an act which the disdainful manner and
language of his companion had made him hitherto
forbear. The speech of Rivers on this subject had
been felt; and, taken in connexion with the air of
authority which the natural mental superiority of
the latter had necessarily imparted to his address,
there was much in it highly offensive to the less
adventurous ruffian. A few moments sufficed to
effect the lightening of the woodman's purse of the
earnings which had been so essential a feature in
his dreams of cottage happiness; and while engaged
in this transfer, the discontent of the landlord
occasionally broke out into words—

“He carries himself highly, indeed; and we
who are his agents and aids must stand reproved
whenever it pleases his humour. Well! I am in
for it now, and there is no chance of my getting
safely out of the scrape just at this moment; but the
day will come, and, by God, I will have a settlement
that'll go near draining his heart of all the
blood in it.”

As he spoke in bitterness, he approached his
horse, and flinging the bridle over his neck, was in
a little while a good distance on his way from the
scene of blood, over which Silence now folded her

wings, brooding undisturbed, as if nothing had
taken place below; so little is the sympathy which
the transient and inanimate nature at any time exhibits,
with that, to the enjoyment of which it yields
the bloom and odour of leaf and flower, soft
zephyrs and refreshing waters.